


one

by persephonerights



Series: song drabbles [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a song, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, all Starks are mentioned - Freeform, introsepctive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonerights/pseuds/persephonerights
Summary: Sixteen year old Sansa Stark knew what perfect looked like. She saw it in the style of her hair, the edges of her eyeliner, and in the size of her waist. She saw it in the ways she smiled, practiced in her mirror. She saw it in the blonde of Joffrey’s hair, the way he smirked. She saw it in Margaery Tyrell’s brunette curls. But that was a perfect she could never tell anyone else about.AKA, Sansa Stark's journey through finding perfection, and what that really means. All set to the tune of One by Sleeping At Last
Relationships: Past Sansa Stark/Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, sansa stark & arya stark
Series: song drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705894
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	one

**Author's Note:**

> this is an introspective look at modern Sansa's journey through finding perfection

_ hold on for a minute, _

_ ‘cause i believe that we can fix this over time, _

_ that every imperfection is a lie. _

_ or at least an interruption... _

_ now hold on, let me finish. _

_ no, i’m not saying perfect exists in this life, _

_ but we’ll only know for certain if we try. _

Sixteen year old Sansa Stark knew what perfect looked like. She saw it in the style of her hair, the edges of her eyeliner, and in the size of her waist. She saw it in the ways she smiled, practiced in her mirror. She saw it in the blonde of Joffrey’s hair, the way he smirked. She saw it in Margaery Tyrell’s brunette curls. But that was a perfect she could never tell anyone else about. 

_ i want to sing a song worth singing, _

_ i’ll write an anthem worth repeating. _

_ i want to feel the transformation, _

_ the melody of reformation. _

Twenty year old Sansa looked in the mirror, and saw no perfections. She saw her physical traits. Her hair was messy, but she was loved. Her waist and figure had filled out, and she felt desirable. Her smile glowed with the kindness she showed others. No one with blonde hair was around her, but someone with brunette curls came up behind her, wrapping arms around her waist.

_ but the list goes on forever, _

_ of all the ways i could be better, in my mind. _

_ as if i could earn God’s favor given time, _

_ or at least “congratulations”... _

Seventeen year old Sansa’s perfections became flaws with every cruel word from Joffrey and his mother’s watchful eyes. Her hair was never perfect enough, something always out of place. She would never be skinny enough, every pound a sin. The perfect smile to the wrong person was a sign of infidelity. Joffrey’s hair lost its shine and the smirk on his face showed cruelty. Not perfection. The only times she felt desired, was when Margaery’s smiles felt as if they were just for her. 

_ now, i have learned my lesson; _

_ the price of this so-called perfection is everything. _

_ i’ve spent my whole life searching desperately _

_ to find out that grace requires nothing of me. _

Eighteen year old Sansa Stark looked in the mirror and didn’t see perfections. She saw tear stained, bruised cheeks. Arya stood beside her, her hand in hers. Her sister didn’t see imperfect hair, she saw a beauty in her sister that Sansa hadn’t felt in a long time. Sansa felt the repercussions of perfect. She felt it in the sting of her cheek and she saw it in the redness of her sister's knuckles. She straightened her back and lifted her shoulders in a way that she hadn’t done in a long time. She looked in her own eyes in the mirror and saw something new there. Strength.

_ i want to sing a song worth singing, _

_ i’ll write an anthem worth repeating. _

_ i want to feel the transformation, _

_ the melody of reformation. _

Twenty one year old Sansa Stark was flying. Flying into freedom, into a new life. As her family picked up boxes, and helped her move into a new apartment. She wasn’t focused on the shine of her hair, or whether or not her makeup was entirely without flaws. Her figure was not important to her while she picked up heavy boxes, and put them in her new life. There was laughter all around her and she had no problem joining in. Her family didn’t care who her smile was directed at, as long as she was smiling. When Margaery and her brother’s showed up to help, she felt surrounded by family. And happy. And safe. And different. And nowh ere near perfect but it didn't seem to matter. 

_ i’ll hold it all more loosely, _

_ and yet somehow much more dearly, _

_ ‘cause i’ve spent my whole life searching desperately _

_ to find out that grace requires nothing. _

_ grace requires nothing of me. _

Sansa Stark spent her life trying to find perfection. She looked for it at all the wrong places. Her appearance was not a reflection of who she was. The shininess of her hair didn’t matter if she wasn’t smiling with honest affection. As time went on she learned that her beauty was more than skin deep. That loving Margaery wasn’t shameful. Now when she sat in front of her mirror and styled her hair, it wasn’t with the idea that perfection would make her loved. It was the way it made her feel good. Like she was worth the effort because she was. Her Margaery would love each other through their old age. Besides, she didn’t owe anyone her beauty. It was hers to own. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed!!
> 
> Feel free to follow me at persephoneright.tumblr.com


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